Papercuts
by Stor-E-Phool
Summary: As he walked off with Angel, it made me sad. It made me so sad that I had to look away. It made me sick smiling when I wasn't really happy. I had only one question left...What next?Rated for cutting, violence, and depressing content.
1. Papercut

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As he walked off with Angel, it made me sad. It made me so sad that I had to look away. It made me sick; smiling when I wasn't really happy. I had only one question left...

What next?

What _else _could go wrong? I had no friends at school. I was laughed at and ridiculed by all of them. They laughed at me whenever I tried. They also laughed when I didn't try. They laughed at me. My hobbies. My happiness. They are not jealous of me. They only laugh...

Beacause I am. They laugh at my very _existence_.

And after that, they laugh at what I don't have. money, clothes, toys...parents.

Then they have the nerve to laugh at what I have. I ask you...for what purpose? What purpose? I don't really know.

I.

Don't.

Know.

Even still, I was happy. I was happy with and grateful for what I had. Life, a home, family, food, Elvis, Scrump...

And me. Exept "me" was dying, Scrump was ripped in half by Myrtle, Elvis was getting fat on drugs, we had to look to neighbors for food support each week, Nani was always crying, our house was old and falling apart...

And my life was about to be turned over to another family.

Then Stitch changed my life. Him, Pleakly, Jumba...and even _Gantu _sewed my life back together peice by peice. I was so happy! I was important! People loved me again. It didn't hurt so bad now. I wasn't alone anymore! I was whole! Invincible! It felt good to be. I wanted to cry with love and joy for them all. And I did. Over and over again I cried happiness and something else...what was it? Oh yeah. Relief.

But at the height of my happiness, Stitch fell in love. I didn't believe him at first; I figured in was just an eensy-weensy crush on a pretty illegal evil genetic experiment. Then I watched him look at her.

He'd do _anything _for her. Just like me. He'd do anything for me, too.

...right?

I was so angery that he'd love anyone as much as he loved me. In fact...I think he loved her more. Much more. But she was _evil! _He wasn't being fair. His heart wasn't_ thinking_ straight.

Then again, hearts don't have the ability to think...they can only feel.

I was stuck. I was falling again, and I couldn't run. I couldn't stop unraveling. I was like a zombie-bot whose circuts were over-loading. I was so lost. I wanted to scream until _blood _came out. I wanted someone, anyone, to come and tell me that it would be okay. I wanted to bleed. I can't explain the urge. It was like all this frustration and red anger in my heart was bursting at my seams, and tears and screams couldn't get it out fast enough. Something was clogging the way.

I thrashed about my room, destroying everything; trying to unclog the way out so that I could ravel my heart back up again. I found my book of experiments, and started ripping out pages and pictures so that I couldn't see it. So I couldn't think about all the happy times.

I ripped it apart wildly; page after page. I had ripped out about 50 pages, then screamed, and started ripping chunks away with my teeth. It hurt. I didn't care. An hour later, it was done. All six hundred twenty-six pages. my mouth and hands were covered with papercuts that were coming to life with blood. I stopped my rampaging for a moment, and stared at the crimson flow. On each cut, it weld up into several perfectly round glistening red pearls, and then rolled down my arm, leaving bloody trails like scarlet streamers across the surface of my skin.

It felt better.

The horrible pressure was just as intense, but it just seemed not to matter quite as much any more. One question floated into my mind...was this peace I felt..._bloodlust_?

Was this what animals felt when they bit into their prey? Was this why they ate meat?

_Was I an animal_?

I put the thought aside, interesting as it was, and continued gazing at the blood.

Was there a point? To _anything_? Probably. To _me_? Probably not. To _this_? Sort of. Maybe not. My thoughts just rambled on through my head, and had no structure or shape. Everything just kind of drifted drousily and faded like a wisp of smoke. I felt so _zen_. So..._alive_. Well...not _alive _alive, but more alive than usual lately.

My mind suddenly cleared and I registered what I was seeing. Dried streams of cracked, caked blood on my arm. I looked up from my hands. The kitchen. How did I get here?

My eyes wandered around the kitchen hazily. I didn't know. Oh well. It's over. I'm back to myself. The pressure is deep, and I barely feel it.My heart is raveled up again. Hidden.

My brain told me the passion was gone.

My heart told me there'd be more. More blood, too.

I quietly picked up the room, and buried the book in the woods.

No one would know. No one would worry.

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	2. Death Comes by Way of Laughter

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Crying. The pressure came back one night when I was alone again. I screamed. I ripped all the books in the house, toppled Pleakley's plants, and wrecked all Jumba's machines and experiments.

I hated it! Everything in my life was so messed up! I went into Nani's room, and began tearing her clothes up. I thrashed the scissors in and out of them, and soaking them with the tears of my furious rage. Then I screamed again, and threw the clothes aside. I spun around and came face to tear-stained face with a mirror. Something had helped me last time. What was it?

To my horror, I saw a trickle of blood running down the face in the mirror, and it quickly grew to a flood. I was dripping wet with red. I felt my face, and it was completly dry. I laughed. I remember! It was blood! Blood that helped me last time! I laughed again, then screamed and ran for the kitchen.

I knocked the knife block to the ground, and watched as they fell with a clatter to the floor. Laughing hysterically, I fell along with them. I rolled over the pile, feeling the cold steel on my back. picking one up, and sliced into my arm. A droplette ran down, and dropped to the ground. Not enough. I did it again. More. Again. More!!!

My arms and legs were a velvety wet red. I still needed more. This time I cut a deep, _deep _hole in the underside of my wrist.

It was enough. The pressure resided. I was at peace...so, so at peace. I yawned. I was very tired...much too tired to clean up after my rampage. Oh, well. I'll only get scolded and Nani will ground me. I yawned again. So very tired...and cold...shaky...I think I'll just fall asleep here on the kitchen floor for a little while...then I'll clean up...and go to my bed...bed.

That's when I closed my eyes and died.

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